
Please note that some of the additional information provided here by the journalist named below may not be accurate, so it should be treated with caution.
September 1970
IF PETER WYNGARDE IS JASON KING, THEN WHO IS PETER WYNGARDE?
At a time when most of the actors involved in long running and highly popular television series feel it necessary to spend their off screen moments telling us that their telly characters do not reflect their real selves, it is refreshing to find one so obviously deeply delighted with his screen persona as his Peter Wyngarde. Not for him the old fears about typecasting, nor the assurances that were it not for the monthly cheques, he’d be off to the Royal Court in search of his artistic soul. Instead, for Mr Wyngarde, Jason King lives and is enough. Through Department S, the series which originally spawned him, has reached the end of its two-year run, writers are even now at work on a sequel to be called ‘The Other World Of Jason King’; in the meantime Mr Wyngarde has released a record with at least one reference to Jason, and he is currently writing an adventure story as Jason might have written it. Meeting Wyngarde, in the cool Kensington apartment he shares with an outside Afghan hound called Yousef, it is sometimes difficult to know where Peter stops and Jason starts. All that is absolutely clear is what Wyngarde had been around for a good 30 years before anyone ever thought of the mercurial Jason King.
He, Peter Wyngarde that is, was born around 1934 (as befits a man with a fan club to think of, he is suitably reticent about the exact year of his birth); the son of an English diplomat in the foreign service, he was taken to the Far East as a child and sent to live with a Swiss family in Shanghai for a month while his father went off on a brief mission to India.
“It just happened to be the month that the Japanese decided to attack Shanghai; they flew over and started to bomb everywhere and before we knew it they were rounding up all the English who were there. I was just seven at the time, too young to have my own passport so my father had put me on his; when the Japanese soldiers reached this Swiss family they asked for someone called Wyngarde and of course I said it was me so they took me off to an internment camp where I spent the next four years. I suppose the Swiss family could easily have pretended that I was their son, but looking back on it now I don’t know what the hell I’d have done in Shanghai for four years with a Swiss family, so in some ways I think I was better off in the camp.”
It was in the internment camp that Wyngarde started to act, first in impromptu charades stage by the children the and then in his own adaptation of Jekyll and Hyde.
“I became a sort of Freddie Bartholomew behind wire. We put on regular shows and even the guards seemed to like them. At first I wasn’t at all worried about being in the camp I thought it was all going to be like some marvellous holiday but then things began to get worse; there were two thousand of us in segregated blocks and morale soon ran down. Food was scarce and for months we had no idea at all who was winning the war; then some of the prisoners put together a radio set and monitored the news from Free China. They made copies of the bulletins and my job was to deliver them from hut to hut until I was caught and thrown into solitary confinement. Soon after that the American Air Force began strafing the camp with the B29’s because the Japanese had camouflaged it to look like a air strip. I

remember dozens of children rushing out and shouting and waving in an effort to stop the attack. Soon after that the camp was liberated, but Wyngarde was to spend the next two years in hospital recovering from the diseases he’d contacted there; by this time his mother had remarried and Wyngarde recalls that the rest of his childhood was spent with a succession of stepfather’s.
“I suppose I was a rather peculiar child, though whether that was the result of being in a camp for four years I shall never know; I remember being precautious, spoiled, and a bully; I always had to be the boss. In that, I don’t think I’ve changed much. I adored my mother, who was a fascinating and beautiful French woman. She was always terribly important to me and I was furious if she didn’t lavish all her attention on me.”
By the time he reached his late teens, Wyngarde was virtually certain that he wanted to make his life as an actor.
“My family were really very sensible about it; they didn’t try to stop me, but my father said I ought to do something else as well so that I wouldn’t be entirely lost if the acting didn’t work out very well. In fact, there wasn’t much else I could do; we had no proper schooling in the camp, so I was hopelessly behind with everything and to this day I still can’t add at all. Anyway, I started to read law for a while but that was obviously hopeless so I went into an advertising agency to see what that was like. I was bitterly unhappy there, and one afternoon I ran away and started to wander around London. I was walking past the Hippodrome in Leicester Square, looking bright green because the malaria and jaundice I’d contracted in the camp kept coming back for brief spells, when I heard someone say that they were having auditions on the stage. I still didn’t really know what an audition was, but something made me walk inside and they gave me a scene from a play called Fresh Fields to read. I read all the parts in exactly the same accent and to my amazement they offered me a job understudying for one of the main characters; it was almost the end of the day and I think they were getting pretty desperate.”
Wyngarde’s career in the professional theatre started at Brighton when the actor he was understudying fell ill and Peter played Gerald.
“I thought it was going to be my big chance, so I played the first act like Noël Coward, the second night Lawrence Olivier and the third like John Gielgud; I think it was the worst performance in the world, but the man who ran Penge Repertory Theatre was in the audience and he seemed to like it so off I went to Penge. There I used to sweep the stage, make the coffee and play small parts until I was sacked for being the terrible actor I undoubtedly was. I was still very confident, but in fact I could only do character parts – I found it impossible to play my own age on the stage, and I had to hide behind bold wigs and false noses all the time. I went on from Rep to Rep, not really learning anything about it but still convinced that I was a marvellous actor in the making. Eventually, I got to Colchester were the theatre was run by a superb director who disciplined me and finally made me aware of all the things I was doing wrong. The first time I got to London with a revival of Somerset Maugham’s Loaves and Fishes, and while I was acting that one night, I suddenly managed to be myself onstage, to find my own personality in the character, and that’s the way I’ve worked since.”
But it was television that made Wyngarde’s name as a romantic leading man, first in the BBC’s serialisation of a Tale Of Two Cities and then in a succession of one-shot plays; when he returned to the theatre it was to play the Dauphin[1] opposite Siobhán McKenna in Saint Joan, a performance which brought him to the attention of at least one Hollywood mogul.
“One night this American arrived in my dressing room looking like Edward G. Robinson and asking how I would like to play Alexander the Great in his knew epic; naturally, I said I would, so he told me to get my hair cut and sign on at a gym to build my body up. I worked out there twice a day for six months until I was practically musclebound and then they made me do some film tests and a few weeks later someone told me that Richard Burton had got the part. So there I am with shorter hair, fantastic muscles and no job. Anyway, because I guess he felt guilty about me the producer said I could choose any other part in the picture I liked; I chose a fantastic character who at one time or another had been the lover of Alexander and both his parents; it was an important part that went right through the film but as soon as the men in Hollywood began seeing the rushes they decided that you couldn’t have a hero like Alexander in love with another man, audiences in the mid- 1950s just wouldn’t stand for it, so I was cut out altogether in the end. All that’s left of me in the film is for one shot of a terribly emaciated face under a huge helmet shouting, ‘Hail Alexander’ and that one shot represents a year of my life. Still. I’m not altogether sorry; the film turned out to be pretty disastrous. Richard looked like Harpo Marx in his wig; I look like Shirley Temple.”
Disillusioned with Hollywood, Wyngarde returned to the theatre and played opposite Vivien Leigh in a world tour of Duel of Angels. It wasn’t until five years later that he made his next screen appearance as the haunting Peter Quint in The Innocents. But the theatre remained his first love, at least until 1967 when he began to think seriously about a television series; in that year he twice collected rave reviews in plays that run for only a matter of weeks, and on that first night of The Duel it became clear that the pattern was about to repeat itself. But that night he threw a dinner party after the show, and among the guests was a television producer with an idea for a series to be built around a character called Roger Cummingford, a pipe-smoking Oxford don, who would be periodically called upon to solve exotic mysteries. At 4:00 O’clock in the morning, having just read the unpromising reviews for The Duel and, by his own admission feeling pretty pie eyed, Wyngarde agreed to do the series.
“The next morning my agent rang to tell me I had a meeting fixed for that day to discuss the start of the series. When I asked what series? He told me the producer had got a signed agreement out of me the night before. I couldn’t honestly remember a thing about it, but I went along to the meeting and they said that they didn’t care if I altered the character of Cummingford to someone I like better. And that was it. Roger Cummingford became Jason King.
Over the next 18 months, Wyngarde recorded 30 episodes of Department S gradually putting more and more of himself into Jason until he was able to ad lib large stretches of his dialogue.
“Because we were working so fast the only sensible thing seemed to be to make Jason a glamourized, dramatised extension of myself. But even though we’re starting the new series soon, I still didn’t worry about being too closely linked with Jason. After all, I can always shave off the moustache when it’s all over. I don’t believe that any actor really knows who his true self is anyway; all you can do is to put bits of yourself into characters. If you think of great movie stars like Bogart or Garbo, they never attempted to be anything but dramatised extensions of the way they saw themselves.”
And if Department S has achieved nothing else, it’s a certainly turned Wyngarde into a star.
“Reaction to the series has been much stronger in other countries than here in Britain. When I went to visit Norway recently, 60,000 people turned up outside my hotel, and the same thing happened in Sydney. I think Jason supplies a kind of fantasy hero figure for an awful lot of people; I based him in some ways on Ian Fleming, the author of the Bond books, and I am hoping that now perhaps we can make a film starring Jason King which would appeal to the audiences who still flock to all the Bond films. I can’t understand why no producers picked up on the idea yet; there’s always an audience for that sort of cynical adventure film, and I’ve written one Jason movie script which I’ll do myself if necessary.”
So it looks as though Jason will be a part of his life for a long time to come; once unhappily married and now alone again except for the fans who lurk around his front door, he seems nevertheless settled in a comfortable pad surrounded by antiques, old leather and of course Yousef the Afghan. One gets the impression that Peter Wyngarde can now afford to do more or less what he likes, and for the few things he can’t actually do himself there’s always Jason King; Mitty never had it so good.
Notes:
[1]: Peter played Dunois in Saint Joan.







































































Right: Peter as Willy Pentridge